


19-Caress

by WritestuffLee



Series: The Warrior's Heart, Volume 4, The Long Shadow [19]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-10
Updated: 2008-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritestuffLee/pseuds/WritestuffLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	19-Caress

Light was spreading across the opaqued window when Qui-Gon opened his eyes. He knew instinctively it was still early morning—barely sun-up—and far too early for Obi-Wan to be voluntarily awake. But instead of creeping from their bed to start the day at his favorite hour as was his usual practice, Qui-Gon rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow to take in the shadowed view.

His former padawan had come home two days ago in what Obi-Wan considered disgrace after suffering a flashback while on a mission. The council had taken him off the field duty roster, sent him back to the healers, and tentatively placed him on the teaching rota. As he often did, Obi-Wan judged himself much more harshly than anyone else did. Even Mace had been gentle with him. Yet he seemed unable to hear the assertion of his therapist that he had made an astonishing recovery from being tortured and that this was merely a slight detour on the way. Though the possibility of a flashback occurring would probably never entirely disappear, his ability to control them so they didn’t interfere with his life or his duty was becoming surer at a steady rate, according to his healer.

None of this seemed to make any difference to him; Obi-Wan clearly felt he had failed, regardless of what anyone told him. Even as a padawan, he had driven himself hard, and for some time after their bond had first formed, Qui-Gon knew he had been part of the cause of that behavior. Through the years, it had earned Obi-Wan the nicknames “Perfect Padawan” and the current “Uptight Knight.” Looking at the younger man’s sleeping face, even now marred with a frown, Qui-Gon let out a silent sigh and gently smoothed the crease between the red-gold brows with his thumb.

Obi-Wan grumbled fussily in his sleep, which made Qui-Gon smile. He stroked his fingers lightly down Obi-Wan’s cheek and the younger man turned toward the touch like a plant to sunlight, nuzzling Qui-Gon’s hand. Qui-Gon gently brushed his other cheek with the backs of his knuckles and was rewarded with a smile and a small, content noise that widened his own smile. He let his hand travel down the side of Obi-Wan’s neck and over his bare shoulder, where the skin turned silken after the velvet of beard and prickle of stubble. Obi-Wan made more happy noises and wriggled deeper into the mattress, looking as though he were enjoying a very good dream.

Sprawled on his back across his side of the bed and a little more, arms and legs more or less akimbo, he’d thrown off most of the covers in the night, only his feet beneath the sheet and coverlet. The firm muscles beneath his skin made soft shadows across his chest and belly. From the red-gold hair on his chest ran a thin line that arrowed straight to his groin and his quiescent cock nestled in a matching thatch. Faint freckles spattered his shoulders. Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed one, thoroughly besotted.

And found suddenly that he could not resist touching all that pale, lightly freckled skin.

He swept his free hand down Obi-Wan’s body from shoulder to hip with a firm touch, then back up again, tracing his fingertips across the faint line of collarbones, and down the other side. A low, throaty “Mmmmmmm” from Obi-Wan accompanied the second sweep. As Qui-Gon made another pass down the middle of his torso, Obi-Wan slowly raised his arms over his head and stretched, lifting himself lazily into the touch. He smiled and opened his eyes sleepily, blinking in the brightening dawn. Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, love,” he murmured from a very short distance above Obi-Wan’s lips, then no distance at all as he went back for another taste. “I just wanted to touch you.”

“Well, don’t stop now that I _am_ awake,” Obi-Wan grumbled, though he was smiling as he said it. “It’s a very nice way to wake up. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, love,” Qui-Gon agreed “I wish I’d been here when you’d gotten back.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan murmured, slipping one hand behind Qui-Gon’s neck and drawing him back down for another kiss. They both worked at this one, and by the time Qui-Gon drew back, other parts of Obi-Wan’s body had woken up, too. “Go on,” he urged.

Qui-Gon’s parts had been wide awake for some time already. That made him only too happy to comply. He reached down and ran a hand up the inside of one of Obi-Wan’s legs from calf to thigh, enjoying the feel of crisp hair giving way to soft skin. The edge of his hand just teased the crinkled skin of Obi-Wan’s scrotum, which bought him a delicious shiver from the younger man. He traced over the join of hip and torso, watching Obi-Wan’s cock fill and rise slowly, then—unable to resist—helping it along a little. Obi-Wan groaned quietly and thrust up into his hand, but Qui-Gon let him go, turning his attention back to the soft skin inside his thighs. Obi-Wan squirmed and sighed.

“If you turn over on your side, I can reach more of you,” Qui-Gon pointed out in a voice still graveled from sleep.

“But I don’t want to move,” Obi-Wan mock-whined, even as he was doing so. Qui-Gon smiled and slid closer, briefly tangling their feet then draping Obi-Wan’s top leg over his hip with a long slide of his hand from buttock to the back of Obi-Wan’s knee. Obi-Wan cupped Qui-Gon’s neck in one hand, burying fingers in his hair, and drew him in for another kiss. That brought them almost skin to skin. Their cocks brushed electrically, making Obi-Wan shudder and Qui-Gon inhale sharply. As a distraction, Qui-Gon used the proximity to trail his fingertips down Obi-Wan’s spine, over the Danjii characters and in a slow circle around his own monogram nestling in the V above his buttocks. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched when he reached that point and Qui-Gon drew back enough to watch the pupils of his eyes expand, leaving vivid green rings around a pool of black.

“Don’t stop,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyelids descending slowly in bliss. This was one of Obi-Wan’s hotspots, the one that almost always hypnotized him into a limp rag.

Qui-Gon didn’t. He traced the letters with one finger and watched Obi-Wan’s face in the half-light of morning: his features relaxed and his lips parted a little and soft panting breaths escaped him. Qui-Gon slowly traced the soft lower lip with another fingertip, back and forth, each time a little farther in until it found the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue and pushed slowly inside. Obi-Wan closed his lips around the big digit and suckled, tongue playing over the surface of Qui-Gon’s finger and sending a sudden jolt straight to Qui-Gon’s cock. He shuddered and pushed himself closer. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and sent him a sly, knowing gaze but continued to play with his finger.

Qui-Gon’s other finger went questing down between Obi-Wan’s cheeks, rubbing over the tight little muscle and making the younger man squirm and push back. It was clear what he wanted but the angle would be wrong from this position.

“We need a toy,” Qui-Gon observed. “Where’s that thing I left for you when you came back from Sacorria?”

Obi-Wan let his finger go long enough to say, “In the drawer, with the lube,” and went back to what he was doing.

Qui-Gon’s hand briefly stopped its own activities to gesture to the drawer in the table beside the bed, which opened. Obi-Wan leaned back. “Let me,” he offered. “I can see it and my fine control is better than yours,” which was all too true, after interminable tens in finger splints. And indeed, a moment later, a bottle of lube and a long, curved plug with curly handles on the opposite end emerged from the drawer. Qui-Gon picked both up from the bed where Obi-Wan dropped them, applied a layer of lubricant to the plug and slid it down between Obi-Wan’s cheeks. Between one breath and another, Qui-Gon slipped it inside.

Obi-Wan’s head snapped back as the tip glided over his prostate and a long, almost convulsive shudder went through him, right down to his toes, which flexed against Qui-Gon’s feet. Qui-Gon looped a finger through one of the handles then went back to tracing his monogram. The motion made the plug rock slightly, rubbing right over the sensitive little gland inside. Obi-Wan shuddered again and gripped Qui-Gon’s biceps almost bruisingly, a low moan pushed out of him.

“Little gods, Qui, I’m not even awake yet!” he panted.

Qui-Gon leaned in and kissed him. “That’s the best time to make you come,” he murmured against Obi-Wan’s lips.

“No it’s _mmmph_!” Obi-Wan responded indignantly, muffled by Qui-Gon’s kiss, which he didn’t fight at all. Instead, he sank into it, allowing Qui-Gon to have his way, at least for the moment.

But not for long. Obi-Wan’s hand slithered down between them and closed around both their cocks, and it was Qui-Gon’s turn to find himself jolted into a gasp. Obi-Wan’s hand was warm and vital around him, the contact of skin making his heart pound, the calluses on that hand rasping deliciously as it moved.

They kissed for a few minutes more then broke off to pay attention both to what they were doing and what was being done. Obi-Wan, it was clear, had his hands full literally and figuratively trying to do both, but persisted with a Jedi’s concentration and tenacity. It wasn’t long before Qui-Gon began to suffer—in a relative way—the same problem. Finally, Obi-Wan lost patience and rolled them over, straddling Qui-Gon and grinding against him. Qui-Gon helped him along by wriggling the toy and grabbing a handful of muscular ass and squeezing. Obi-Wan went up with a startled cry, hips jerking, the erratic rhythm pushing Qui-Gon over the edge only a short moment later, leaving them both panting, sticky, and fragrant.

Obi-Wan settled against him with a sigh, blanket-like. Qui-Gon’s hands moved up and down his back. The skin there was a little damp with sweat now and so soft, the texture so unexpected on someone with hands so rough . Qui-Gon’s touch mesmerized both of them. Obi-Wan nestled against him, making contented noises, and Qui-Gon rubbed his chin and cheek against Obi-Wan’s head, as though marking him, equally content and filled with a deep, quiet love.

These moments together were so precious. They filled Qui-Gon’s heart in a way very little else ever had. Orgasms were wonderful but the intensity of feeling didn’t last—couldn’t last—the way the afterglow of making love did. In those moments was something seldom spoken of in an order where attachment was forbidden, a sense not of completion, but of addition, as though in loving Obi-Wan he had become more than just himself, as though the two of them together were greater than the sum of each alone. Perhaps they were. Perhaps that was why the Force had allowed their extraordinary bond.

As though echoing his thoughts, Obi-Wan murmured, “I hope you know how much I love you. This is what keeps me going when I’m alone in the field, moments like this.”

Qui-Gon kissed the top of his head tenderly. “They’re what keep me going too, when you’re not here.”

“They’re even better when you don’t wake me up for them,” Obi-Wan added. Qui-Gon could hear the mischief in his voice, sense his humor bubbling through the bond. Carefully, he rolled over, keeping his grip on the younger man but letting him down on his side.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he said, slipping the plug out and making Obi-Wan shiver. He leaned over and kissed the younger man’s hair. “I’ll have tea for you when you’re ready.”

Obi-Wan reached up with one hand and cupped his cheek. “You’re so good to me, Qui,” he murmured tenderly. “I love you so much.” His face was so open it was almost painful to see it.

Still, Qui-Gon couldn’t stop himself from breaking into what he knew was a foolish grin for such an old man. But Obi-Wan could still make him feel forty years younger. “What an extraordinary man you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon murmured and kissed him. Obi-Wan started to protest, but Qui-Gon touched his lips with a finger, silencing him. “Leave it there, _kosai_. You are. And I’m lucky to have you.”

And that, for the moment, seemed to be enough for both of them and the Force.


End file.
